Make Your Way Back Home Again
by Carnivorous
Summary: Over a year after returning to 12, Katniss decides she should find someway to really move forward. Still unsure though of where she stands with Peeta, she makes her way into his private sanctuary... the bakery. "It must get lonely in here." One-shot


**Katniss makes her way into the bakery, unsure of where she stands with Peeta. Cute, quick, and simple.**

**I've wanted to write something about Katniss and Peeta for a veeeeery long time now, and I hope this is acceptable!**

**Title inspired by Cafe Lights by Hey Marseilles.**

**All rights go to Suzanne Collins. **

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><p><strong>It seems like forever since I've written, because it has been. I'm sorry so everyone out there hoping for a Seasons of Poison update, but I've had such horrible writers block and such a tough semester it's been all but impossible to write. But I promise you, something is on its way, I just needed to break the ice with a cute one shot like this. <strong>

**Hopefully it makes up for the horrible wait, and hopefully you can...**

**you guessed it...**

**ENJOY!**

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><p>"Katniss!"<p>

I'm walking through the restored square that's bustling with activity since it's Saturday, and everyone but the merchants have the day off. I don't have to turn to know that it's Peeta calling me; I recognize his voice anywhere now.

Twelve isn't that different from before. Everyone knows each other now though, and there's a stronger sense of community, which helped us rebuild the square and the shops like the bakery. Peeta stands on the steps to the bakery, wearing an apron, wiping his floury hands on it's the door shuts behind him. He must have been watching for me out the window.

It's been just over a year. One year since everything changed, since we both came back here. Things are getting better. Peeta and I, well we're not really together, but I think we both understand what is going to happen to us in the future. We both know that there could never be anyone that would fully understand either of us.

He leans against the doorframe, watching me with steady blue eyes as I approach.

"Shouldn't you be…?" I nod to the store where I notice there are no customers.

Peeta shakes his head. "I'll open at one. Where were you? You weren't hunting."

I didn't go hunting like I normally do in the mornings. I actually slept in past nine, resting soundly on my own for the first time in forever. Sometimes Peeta stays the night, sometimes I go to his house, but recently he's stayed in the house above the bakery, and I haven't felt comfortable staying with him in his old home. Even when I go in the bakery I feel like I'm trespassing on something that belongs only to him.

For some reason, I start thinking about much older he looks than when I first dubbed him "The Boy With the Bread", that is, when we were sixteen. His face is more angular, the muscles in his neck and arms more defined. In fact, his arms were muscular to begin with, but what with all the rebuilding he's been part of, they're better built than ever before. His eyes, the color hasn't changed but they're not as warm as they were, and part of me is scared they won't ever be like that again.

"Don't worry I'll bring you some rabbit later," I assure him, standing opposite him on the stairs.

"I was looking for you," he says quieter, looking at my hands which are crossed in their usual position over my chest. "I went into the village this morning. Hazelle said she saw you heading towards the school."

My eyes wander past him to the wooden paneling of the storefront. I itch my eyebrow to avoid eye contact.

"You'll think it's stupid," I tell him as though the matter is already decided, waving it off. Peeta catches my hand and lowers it as he steps towards me. We haven't kissed in… weeks. Part of me wants to kiss him; the other part wants to run from really feeling anything.

Peeta's fair eyebrows raise and he laughs, grabbing my other hand gently. "After everything we've been through, you honestly believe I'll think something's stupid." I remain silent and he releases my hands, and pivots to the door, sighing heavily. "Maybe you'll fess up after some fresh cheese buns."

I cringe. "Warm?"

Peeta chuckles and opens the door, the bells ringing merrily as he puts his arm above my head to hold the door and ushers me in. "Literally just got them out of the oven."

Maybe it's selfish, I don't care, but I grab two from the counter and sit at one of the two small tables near the door. I eat one within minutes as Peeta disappears into the back for a bit. The cheese is still melted and warm, perfect for eating. Peeta comes back out when I pick up the second one and rip off a piece.

"Please don't tell me you want to become a teacher or something," he says, pulling out the chair and sitting across from me. He picks a chunk out of my bun, and grins at me as he chews.

"What if I do?"

His fingers tackle another piece, and finally I steal it back. "I wouldn't let my kid be in your class." The talk of kids makes me nervous. We're nineteen I know, and not married or really considering marriage, but it could be in the future. I've never wanted children, never in a thousand years. I don't think even Peeta could change my mind.

My body falls back in the chair. "You know how they've got the new curriculum and stuff," I begin, "and now everyone's learning the same thing across the country. I realized that we never finished school."

"You're too smart for school," Peeta says easily. "I don't really remember a lot, but I remember you always were near the top of our grade."

I haven't given school a second thought since… well since I was in school. It wasn't hard, but I guess that's because I had bigger problems to deal with everyday. School was just a sideshow "I don't want to go back. Just finish the last grade in things that I can. I can't hunt all day anymore, I'm going to need to do something with my life."

Peeta doesn't react. His lips don't even move. Is he going to have an attack?

"It's stupid, I told you," I say, color rising to my cheeks. Am I seriously blushing, because I'm embarrassed that Peeta thinks what I'm doing is stupid? He gives his head a little shake.

"I don't think it's stupid," he tells me to which I'm surprised. "I think it's great, Katniss."

I'm taken aback. I feel weird, worrying about something as simple as school, and math problems. "Really?"

Peeta nods reassuringly. "It's probably what you need. I have this, and I mean, you can hunt, but you have to do something else to fill your time. It's a good step forwards."

This is what I love about Peeta. Even if I'm thinking about something ridiculous he manages to convince me I'm not going insane. He doesn't shoot my ideas down like Gale might've as my best friend. _Gale_…

Peeta rises, and I've realized he finished my cheese bun. "You can stay if you want, but I have to open in half an hour."

"I'll stay," I answer because even though Peeta hasn't physically done anything except for show that he cares, he's made me want to spend a day with him again. "Can I help with anything?"

He's taller too, I think. Or maybe it's because I'm sitting. "Yeah." He seems to be thinking about it, maybe shocked that I want to do something other than sulk. "That'd be good."

"I don't want to mess up your bread," I tell him, standing as well, "but I can handle a knife."

Peeta just stares at me, but his eyes aren't tortured. They almost seem clear, as though he's realized something. "I know you can."

I've only ever been in the back twice before, but its massive size astonishes me every time. Everything that he makes is out of a wood fired oven, making it taste a thousand times better than anything a machine could produce. His scarred hands knead every batch of dough, and every cake carefully decorated by them too. There's an incredible amount of space on the right wall for ingredients to be prepped, and Peeta stands me at a specific spot, handing me a knife.

"I toasted up those chestnuts you brought me yesterday," he says as he floats away, then returns with a bowl. "Just chop them so they can be put in some buns and stuff."

It's likely that I chop slower than he would, but I do it so that they're about the size I remember in loaves I used to have. "What are you going to make with these?"

He's pushing a pan into the warm oven. "That bread I burned for you."

I stop with my knife in mid air. "You remember?"

"After you left it hit me. I haven't made it cause I haven't had any chestnuts." Peeta comes to the counter beside me and pours flour on it, making a hole in the center of the pile. "Keep chopping there. We don't slack off in the kitchen."

We work in silence for a while and I watch Peeta create yellow dough out of the corner of my eye. I think about the day that he changed my life with that bread… It's too painful though thinking about Prim when I haven't all day. Sometimes when I forget she's gone I feel guilty, and that makes any thought of her even more agonizing. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but as I chop the last few nuts I decide to break it.

"It must get lonely in here."

Peeta begins on another batch of the same coloured dough. "Only when Sae isn't here or when I think about how loud it used to be in the old place." I toss the nuts back into their bowl and sneak a few into my mouth, not that I think Peeta would really care. "I might try to find someone who wants to help out."

I don't know what makes me do it, but I volunteer. "I can. If you want, when I'm not hunting."

He looks up and gives me an old Peeta smile, a genuine, warm, comforting smile. "You would?"

"Why not?" I shrug and pick the bowl up, shaking it around in front of him. "It's not like I expect to be a master baker, but I can do these things."

His grin doesn't fade as he grabs the bowl. "I'd like that," he says walking away. "You can do your school stuff here too if you don't want to work at home. I'm no genius, but I'm pretty good at math what with all this measuring."

An agreement. I like this. What we've had with each other hasn't been laid out, which has made it more confusing, but with us both deciding mutually on something, it's much more straightforward.

"It's not for sure yet, the school, but I thought I'd talk to the people there."

"Is it okay if you do the berries you brought me too?" Peeta asks returning with the basket I delivered yesterday. I take them without saying anything and get down to business.

We continue working in the quiet, only the sound of the dough and knife against the board along with the crackling fire breaking it. Peeta promises me a nut and raisin loaf for tonight. Does that mean he's coming back to the village? I'm scared that he might say no, and so I don't ask.

It's one o'clock faster than I know, and Peeta goes to the front to help customers while I do the tasks he's left me to in the back. I haven't the slightest clue as to how he manages this place on his own day after day.

Eventually, there seems to be a lull and I've run out of things to do, so I cautiously make my way to the front. Peeta is sitting on a stool, staring out the window at the Saturday shoppers. I don't want to disturb him, but I sneeze suddenly and he jumps up. "Sorry," I apologize quickly, the initial sneezing sensation flooding from my body. "I just –"

Peeta moves swifter than I knew he was capable of, and he places his warm hands on my hips, pulling me forward. My lips know what's coming before my head does because they're already parted when his collide against mine. Hands fly to either side of his face, locking him against me; my lashes brush my cheeks as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. It shocks me when Peeta's hands slip under my shirt and rest against my lower back, gentle but still urgent. His lightly stubbled face massages my hands as his jaw moves with mine; I never realized that whatever they had done during for the Games had worn off and his facial hair was growing.

The bell rings, indicating that someone has entered, but their footsteps fail to fall as I assume they watch us. Peeta pulls back softly, and my eyes flutter open to see his blue ones inches away, piercing into me. "I'm sorry," he says in less than a whisper; I might only know what he says because I feel it against my lips. "I've been waiting to do that all day."

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